Blood of the Earth
by Fuzzy Necromancer
Summary: Applebloom brings home some strange seeds from the everfree forest. Soon, every earth pony is acting strange, and the pegasi and unicorns have to confront the growing nightmare that wears the guise of their friends.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

Fact: According to the latest equestrian census, the earth ponies in Ponyville outnumber the combined population of pegasi and unicorns seven to two.

Fact: Pegasi have magic that allows them to walk on clouds, manipulate weather, and occasionally to perform miraculous feats such as the sonic rainboom and the hurricane shift. Earth ponies, it is claimed, have a special connection to the earth. The evidence of this is cited in their superior cultivation of plants. Unicorn supremacists have often thrown this into doubt, but no unicorn supremacist has ever made a successful career as a farmer, gardener, or other horticultural technician.

Fact: The everfree forest has an incalculable number of unclassified species in it. The unknown animal species in the forest, however, are as nothing compared to the unclassified plants.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Walk in the Woods**

Applebloom knew the way to Zecora's cottage well enough. She gave the field of poison joke a wide berth as she moved deeper into the wood. The leaves rustled in a wind that no pegasi had ordained. Parasprites fluttered through the shady air.

As she moved deeper into the forest, she recognized the shades of deeper green and whiteberry thickets that huddled on the edge of the first stream. The wild patterns of the everfree changed without regard to the action of ponies, but Zecora could tell where she was just by sniffing the air and feeling the ground.

Applebloom wasn't that good of course, but she wouldn't get lost as long as she stayed on the path. She detoured around a fallen log. The trees opened up a little, and the undergrowth became thicker. She kept the well-tread ground, but all around her wild berries, honeysuckle, and patches of lemongrass flourished.

Her stomach rumbled. Low-hanging fruit beckoned to her, but she steeled herself to march onward. As soon as she reached Zecora, she'd be able to settle in for some nice tasty stew.

Applebloom patted her satchel and felt the reassuring presence of Big Mac's best amber cider, zap-apple jam, and seeds of gold rush apples, royal spinach, and black beauty tomatoes. After the poison joke incident, Applejack had decided the best way to make up was to send Zecora a bushel of pink lady apples. Zecora said she'd never tasted anything so fantastic, and insisted on sending a jar of strong-tasting dark everfree forest pears and floating potatoes in return. It took them a dozen more exchanges before Big Mac came up with the idea of starting a regular seed trade, trading exotic new species from the Everfree Forest for the specialized Apple Family crops.

This patch had looked pretty barren the first time she'd snuck over to Zecora's hut. Funny how the weeds seemed thicker every time she visited. She remembered Granny Smith talking about the 'fluence and blessin the land, usually after she'd been staying up to late or getting into the cider. As easily tired as she was, sometimes Granny Smith would get up earlier than Celestia to walk up and down the fields singing gibberish.

Granny Smith said she was doing earth pony magic. Big Mac said ponies just got funny that way sometimes, especially when they didn't take their pills. Applebloom wasn't sure who to believe, and when she asked Applejack, she'd just said "I don't know and I don't care, now will you please hold that ladder steady before I AUGH!"

A sweet, spicy smell filled the air. Applebloom snapped back to the present as a blood-red shape flashed in front of her. Leaves rustled. She spun around to follow the darting figure.

A parasprite bounced right up on her face to nuzzle against her. She squealed and flailed. She didn't have a harmonica or a trombone. "Get offa me!" she squealed.

The parasprite left her face, but hovered around and landed on her back. The powder from its wings brought tears to her eyes, and those tiny little feet scratched into her skin. She felt it sucking at the sweat between her shoulders.

Applebloom bucked and ran, diving through bushes and low branches. The parasprite clung to her hair, and several friends joined it. A dark orange parasprite fluttered its violet wings in her face, lapping up her tears like mother's milk.

Applebloom stumbled on a root. She steadied herself and slowed down, forcing back the sour panic in her throat. The parasprites were irritating her eyes and licking her sweat. She drew to a halt in the midst of the brambles.

Zecora had told her about newt-tree-ants, these teeny tiny substances that everypony needed to stay alive. Sweat and tears were salty. The parasprites just wanted salt.

Applebloom thought of stoic, level-headed Big Mac, courageous, stalwart Applejack, and the unflappable Pinkie Pie. She forced out a weak chuckle and a few high-pitched cackles at the parasprites. A few fluttered back. She slowed her breathing and reached for the calm inside. Deep, spicy-sweet air filled her lungs. She held back her tears and let herself cool down.

Some of the parasprites departed. The red one skittered across her spine.

"Alright, no more misses nice pony!" Applebloom said. She jerked back her tail and whipped the parasprites away from her. They tumbled into bushes and holes, dazed and startled. One of them struggled with it's broken wing.

Applebloom stared at it. She kept staring as a spider-bat swopped down and snatched it. The parasprite no longer had to worry about the broken wing.

The spider-bat flew up into the hollow of a tree. Its face bled where the parasprite had struggled for its life. Soft, fuzzy-faced babies, with only five or six legs and limp wings, eased out of the hollow, their tender noses probing the air. The parent bat deposited the meal before them without tasting a bite.

Applebloom's muscles tensed and her skin chilled. She thought about all the parasprites that had overrun ponyville, ravenous and ever-multiplying. If the spider-bats, lizards, and other everfree forest creatures didn't eat parasprites, they would overrun equestrian. A cruel, heartless pony might think that fuzzy little parasprites needed to be eaten, to keep them in check. It was a good thing, Applebloom thought to herself, that she wasn't a mean jerk like that.

Applebloom drank in the terrible, beautiful sight. Big long words from Big Mac's library rattled around in her head, along with vague, hard-to-think ideas from Sweetie Belle's book of junior philosophy. The everfree forest was a deep and strange place. Animals killed each other to survive. Plants grew with no regard to usefulness or nourishment, wherever their seeds fell. Parents drew blood and lost blood to feed their children. This was chaos.

This was also a part of the forest she had never been to. The parasprites had all crawled or fluttered away. The spider-bat secured its young with ropes of silk and flew off into the shadow reaches. A jackalope dug into the ground.

Something was coming. Applebloom could smell their fear, along with that delicious aroma and the smell of freshly turned earth. She didn't know exactly where the farm or Zecora's hut lay, but she knew they too far to reach on tired little legs while something big and hungry pursued.

Applebloom drew out a bottle of cider with her tail. It was heavy, and a few accidents with the Cutie Mark Crusaders Wine-Glass-Rim-Musician Squad had taught her how painful broken glass could be. She gripped it tight, and only then nested into the shadow depths of the underbrush. She tried not to cry, not to scream, not to breathe loudly.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A New Leaf

Applebloom sighed with relief when a green puppy scampered out of the underbrush. She still didn't lower the bottle or emerge from her hiding place. Zecora and Princess Luna had taught her that a spooky appearance often masked a friendly soul, but the reverse held true. She could imagine a creature that looked like a cute little puppy had a lot more success devouring innocent ponies than a big scary manticore.

Zecora had explained how, out in the everfree forest, even though it seemed random, creatures often changed to become more successful. As long as they were fierce enough, ravenous enough, or sneaky enough, they lived long enough to have lots of babies, and that meant that more creatures of the same type would exist than the animals less able to survive. Cuteness definitely had its Evil Ooshunary advantages.

The puppy didn't show any signs of transforming into a ravenous monster. It sniffled the ground and rolled around barking at shadows. Then it sniffed the air, cocked its head, and pounded toward her.

"You just get along little doggy," Applebloom said. It sniffed her ankles and licked her pack, but showed no signs of devouring her. Applebloom eased out of the underbrush and lowered her bottle. The green puppy picked up a stick and waved it imploringly.

Applebloom ignored it. She looked up to the sky, but the trees were too thick to make out the position of the sun. She couldn't hear running water, so she couldn't find her way home by following the Steve Magnet River to its source at Cider Creek. She didn't seem to be anywhere near the abandoned castle either.

Applebloom sat down on her haunches and took a deep breath. She wouldn't' cry. Granny Smith always said there's a light in the darkest shadows. She wouldn't cry. "I'll find mah way home. Somehow…"

The green puppy dropped the stick. It lowered its head, trotted over to her, and nuzzled her with a sympathetic whine. Applebloom reached over and stroked its fuzzy little head. She felt hot tears running down her face, but she didn't care as much now. She was lost and barely had a drop of hope left, but the soft puppy made these feelings a little easier to bear.

"Ah don't suppose you're some kinda magical Compass Puppy, or some other everfree forest critter that could help me find my way out of here?" Applebloom asked. The puppy licked her face and continued to whine sympathetically. "Too much too hope for," she muttered.

Applebloom spent a few minutes petting the puppy, for want of something more productive to do. She was getting thirsty. Maybe she should find fresh water first, and then try following it to the source. Or she could look around for high ground and get a better view.

Something disturbed her thoughts. It wasn't a sound so much as a lack of sound, a tingling a sense of nearness.

Applebloom squeezed the puppy. It yapped cheerfully. The leaves parted, and a pair of timber wolves stalked out in utter silence. They didn't howl, because it wasn't zap-apple season. That only made sense. They didn't bark either, or growl. Pale yellow tongues lolled in and out of their wooden mouths, but they made no panting sound.

"Um, here's your kid!" Applebloom said, thrusting the puppy towards them. "We're friends, right, timber wolf puppy?" The green puppy barked and licked her face. The adult timber wolves did not.

"Have some jam!" Applebloom said, pulling out a jar, twisting it open, and throwing it to the ground. All the time she kept backing away. There were some small and narrow gaps in the bushes, but hadn't granny said that timber wolves could slide through vegetation like a fish through water? Her foot caught in the jackalope hole. She pulled out of it and stepped carefully around it. It was pretty wide for such a small animal.

The timber wolves kept staring at her. Their puppy barked and danced at their heels. One of them picked the pup up by the scruff of its neck and carried it off. The other sniffed the zap-apple jam.

The puppy would put in a good word for her, right? Only Applejack had assumed the worst and attacked Zecora, thinking that a shady stranger her little sister had run off to must be intent upon cooking her in a stew. Applejack was a pretty friendly pony, but even she could get mean when her kin were at stake. Applejack was also a reasonable, vegetarian , thinking speaking pony, not a hungry, wild, wooden wolf.

The timber wolf sniffed the jam. It opened its jaw wide and started circling Applebloom.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to give a walking plant some zap-apple jam as a peace offering, especially a walking plant that had a mysterious connection to zap-apple trees.

Applebloom kept the low bushes and jackalope hole in her peripheral vision. The wolf kept darting back and forth. It was playing games with her. It wanted to spook her out and make her stupid. Applebloom huddled up close, keeping her soft bits covered and squeezing her tail tight. Let that big mean wolf see how "stupid" a cornered pony could get.

Applebloom didn't hear the other wolf pounce behind her, but she felt the rush of air it disturbed and smelled its cool, tart breath. She ducked down her head and whipped back her tail. The bottle smashed against the wolf's snout. She pulled her tail back before the glass fell.

Applebloom dug into her pack and spun around to face the assailant. Air rushed up as the first timberwolf lunged behind her. The broken bottle hadn't cracked its wooden face, but the cider was blinding its eyes and irritating its nose. Sharp teeth met blunt hooves. Applebloom used the momentum to lunge forward. She plunged down the jackalope whole while one wolf scrabbled blindly and the other nursed its jaw.

The timber wolves scrabbled at the hole, making it larger. Applebloom nudged at the roots around the entrance, trying to shift them into the way. Her sweat splashed onto them and seeds fell out of her pack. "Come on plants!" she gasped. Her hooves and fur tingled. The roots shook and stretched into a thick mesh, zap-apple saplings and tomato sprouts shooting up to fill the gap. Applebloom froze for a second in sheer wonder. She repeated a phrase that Applejack used whenever she slipped up with heavy farm tools, and made reference to Princess Celestia's horn and hindquarters.

Applebloom shook her head. It must be some weird, uncontrolled, everfree forest magic. She trotted on into the dark, winding tunnel. Maybe she could lay low, or maybe it had some other exits. A faint light glimmered somewhere along the dark path.

A series of angry squeaks drew her attention. Two stag jackalopes lowered their horns. Dozens of beady little eyes glinted in the darkness.

"Aw horse-apples," Applebloom squeaked. This wasn't her day.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Fertile Ground

Applebloom staggered into a clearing, covered in blood, sweat, and six different types of soil. Small sprouts grew in the layers of dirt, seeming to take strength from her proximity. Needless to say, tree sap also covered her. If she stopped moving for too long, she'd run the risk of being preserved in amber.

The yellow filly reflected that she was no longer just "lost." She'd need to find the general direction of Sweet Apple Acres and Zecora's Hut to be properly lost.

She did manage to find a river. That spicy, sweet, earthy aroma wafted on the breeze. She halted at the water's edge, eyeing for crocodiles, ahuizotls, lacedons, or any land-dwelling predators coming near to drink. She kept waiting. She snuck into the tall grass and laid low, feeling crickets and parasprites adhere to her sticky body. She didn't even give a buck anymore.

No eldritch horror or flesh-eating beast approached. Applebloom repeated a few songs of Granny Smith and Zecora's mantras until her blood cooled down and her heart stopped thundering. She splashed into the shallows to wash the filth of conflict from her skin and assuage her ocean-deep thirst.

Swift-running water scrubbed the grime from her and soothed her aching joints. She decided to focus on the river. It gave her a direction, even if she didn't know where that would lead.

Applebloom paused to reason, as wise salmon, caddisfly larvae and tadpoles passed her by. Her stomach rumbled. She gazed enviously at the fish, nibbling algae. She tried a little, but it tasted of utter yuckness.

When Applebloom arose from the water, she decided to head upstream. The river had to lead somewhere, right?

Flowers blossomed in her wake. Grass thickened and bore seed. The delicious smell grew thicker. After her drink and rest, Applebloom realized how hungry she was. Zecora had warned her against eating wild grasses in the everfree forest, but maybe she could find some nice ripe tomatoes or blackberries. The thought of so many fruit-laiden bushes she'd squeezed past in haste intensified her hunger pangs.

The smell called out to her. She could almost hear music in the splashing of water and the rustling of leaves.

_[i]Come and taste, child of the earth. Rest your weary hooves. Drink the still waters than run deep.[/i]_

Zecora said that certain grasses made you really sick, and certain grasses made you act silly, but she already felt silly. The sweet spicy smell buoyed her up like Twilight Sparkle's balloon. Some tingle at the back of her neck urged caution, but she ignored it. Hunger ruled her body, and the curdled poisons of spent adrenaline ran through her brain. She had no fear left to chill her.

The great indigo plant stood in a patch of barren earth, its golden flowers perfuming the air with spicy sweetness. Tender blue pods the size of hay bales quivered on its limbs. Applebloom watched with numb interest as a manticore approached, then shied away wimpering.

_[i]Come and taste, child of the earth. Sate your hungry mouth. Curl up beside me and know the sweetest sleep.[/i]_

She staggered closer and nibbled on a fallen petal. It tasted delicious. The roots cradled her like the arms of loving parents. Any moment now, she would wake up to Applejack's hollering and the rooster crowing, but she didn't want to wake up. Not yet. Not just yet. Not while the roots curled around her and the moss pillow soothed away her pains.


End file.
